


Yearn for the day it won't go gray

by Ponderosa



Category: Smokin' Aces (2006)
Genre: Black Male Character, Canon Character of Color, Character of Color, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponderosa/pseuds/Ponderosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No man is free from wanting what he doesn't have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yearn for the day it won't go gray

Rusty threads of blood run down white porcelain. The muzzle of Ivy's gun nestles warm under the flap of his coat and he knows he could've walked away clean before this latest went down, but no man's free from wanting what he doesn't have. It pays though, to know how shit ranks in the scheme of things. 

Like how there ain't nothing real about Israel but the way he _needs_. The man's blind to it whether he's doing lines off a hooker's back or on stage catching a bullet between his perfect teeth. Israel wears desperation around his shoulders like it's going out of style, but the emperor's fooling more than himself and no one but Ivy seems to see his skin. 

It took time for Ivy to wise up Israel's game, figure how to measure the vicious edges of Israel's starved-wolf smile and the snap of his tone, because Israel thrives on lies, fills that hollow space beneath his ribs with them. Even in the spotlight of the moon when his body's spread like a butterfly, to someone who knows his routine, softly whispered promises are as transparent as his act. The only truth drills into Ivy's spine through Israel's shaky moans, the hesitant circle of his arms, the softness of his core.

What Israel needs is to trust. And Ivy, wrong color for this country let alone this motherfucking old school Italian bullshit, has climbed as high as he could in the life. All _he_ needs is someone to ride all the way to the top.

"Gonna take me all the way, baby," Ivy whispers to Israel later, when the sheets are red silk, dark as the ace of hearts, and his gun is cold and shining on the glass table beside the bed.

He takes Israel's mouth in a soft, sucking kiss. Ain't the smart bet looking at the big picture. Ain't what he wants when it's a handful of lies. But the shaky feeling that gets to him when Israel moans his name is something he won't be free of for a long, long time.

"All the way," he says, softer now, and when Israel moans louder, Ivy's heart drums harder. He knows, like he's always known, that all the blood that had poured down the drain over the years might as well have been his.


End file.
